


The Push & The Pull

by irreplaceable_ecstacy



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irreplaceable_ecstacy/pseuds/irreplaceable_ecstacy
Summary: There was a reason why they called her the Terrible Dragon of Moscow. People spoke of her ill-temper, the lack of control of her anger but Hélène had never fallen victim to this.Not until one day when she provoked the dragon.
Relationships: Marya Dmitryevna Akhrosimova/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	The Push & The Pull

A thundercloud hovered over the city, darkening the evening before the setting sun could color the sky a deep shade of dull greys. Marya strode through the streets in a haste to beat the rain before it drenched her, muttering furiously to herself in a flurry of Russian and English. Why she decided not to take the train or a cab, she did not know but the walk home was only one of her many frustrations of her day. Working for a man such as Nikolay Bolkonsky was a living nightmare. The man himself was a monster. As a very dedicated autocratic leader, he was talented at spitting instructions and setting expectations on his staff, and being his personal assistant gave her no rights to have a say in any of his inaccurate planning. She was just as equivalent as her colleagues who worked in the departments below her with a massive burden weighing on them; her work could bury her six feet under if it continued to pile up.

Today, she declared, was possibly the worst day of her all her years of working for that cruel old man. While she had been attending to some calls, she witnessed that Bolkonsky fellow stirring up a fight with one of his oldest employees, Pierre Bezukhova who happened to be Marya’s closest friend. Pierre had spilled a little coffee over some documents which was about to reprint when the old man materialized out of nowhere to berate him for such carelessness. No one knew what it was that drove Bolkonsky wild so early in the morning but one thing for sure, everybody had their moods ruined and especially Marya. Shortly after the fiasco, Marya received a scolding of her own for ‘eavesdropping’ on the argument which was possibly the stupidest thing she had ever heard. She fought back fiercely but Bolkonsky had the upper hand. He threatened to fire her and that was her breaking point. Smoothing out her blazer, she forced out an apology through gritted teeth and went on with her day like nothing happed.

Presently, now that she was out of her office, ice and rage flared in her eyes and she cursed at herself for submitting to him so easily. Her fists whitened as she dug her crimson nails into the flesh of her palm. She balled them so tightly to the point her knuckles went purple from the lack of blood that circulated through her now clogged veins. If she could ram her head through a wall, she would send an entire building collapsing over her head while she stood in the rubble unharmed. Her footsteps became heavier as she trudged through the streets, leather boots thundering the pavement that led to her home. She was not in the mood to speak to anyone or see anyone, and that unfortunately included her own girlfriend, Hélène Kuragina. She needed her own space, a place to breathe where she could empty her mind without anything overloading her senses, as if they were not already crammed.

She tried to steady her breathing; inhaling through her nose then exhaling through her mouth but it did little to help. When she swung the door open, it slammed into the wall behind it and the house tremored from the impact. Marya heard a loud yelp from upstairs followed by footsteps scurrying down the stairs to find the source of noise. Hélène emerged and her face lit up at the sight of Marya but the redheaded woman did not look at her. Just by the way she walked and shoved her things aside aggressively, Hélène could tell that she was certainly not in the mood for anything at all, and this worried her. She had never seen Marya so upset, not since the incident with Anatole and Natasha, but Hélène could not figure out what could have driven to such a state. Work was a very vague answer to that question.

“Masha? What happened to you?” Hélène questioned as she trotted up to Marya who waved a hand at her dismissively.

“Work.”

“I know it’s work but what happened? I’ve never seen you so angry,” Hélène pressed on.

Marya sighed. “I’m fine. Please, just leave me be.”

“But I can’t just leave you leave you be! You’re upset and I want to help you,” Hélène insisted.

“You can help me by listening to me, Lena, because I really am not in the mood for this… pestering,” Marya muttered as she made her way to one of the kitchen cabinets, digging through the many bottles for the right booze.

“And drinking is going to help?” Hélène scoffed as she jogged to Marya’s side, tugging her away by the sleeve.

“At least I have more control than you,” Marya snapped and Hélène withdrew herself. “For the last time, let me do what I want to do. I’m upset now but I’ll be fine tomorrow, if you would let me do what I please without interfering.”

“Masha”-

“Don’t argue with me, Kuragin, or you’re going to make my mood worse than it already is!” Marya threatened.

At this point, Hélène found herself losing her own temper. If she knew better, she would have backed down but Hélène did not understand just how much Marya needed her own space. Being a woman who loved to surround herself with people she loved, Hélène could not empathize with Marya and her need for personal space to clear her mind. Marya was always there by her side to comfort her whenever she was down so why did this have to be any different for Marya? All she wanted to do was help and this determination blinded her from seeing anything else as a more rational decision than nagging Marya until she gave in. What she could not see, unfortunately, was the way her words fueled the fire that raged fiercely behind the redheaded woman’s darkened grey hues. One work after another, the fire grew larger and incontrollable. The storm that stirred overhead was not a pretty one and Hélène took a step into it.

“I’m just trying to help you! You make me feel redundant in this household because you’re the one going out for proper work and not me. I’m not the one with the brains in this household or the qualifications. Helping you is all I can do if I’m not working at the bar, and now you won’t let me!”

“Sometimes you need to understand that you don’t have to force yourself into other people’s business, especially if they want to be left alone. You’re as stubborn as always. Will you ever listen?” Marya hissed.

“No, because I am as stubborn as you say,” Hélène retorted as she advanced towards Marya. “Will you just calm down and put the drink away? You told me once that alcohol was never the answer.”

“Yet you still drink,” Marya shot back angrily. “Before I lose my fucking mind, Kuragin, leave me the fuck alone!”

“Will you please”-

“For fuck’s sake, Kuragin!” Marya screamed and raised a hand above her head, unaware of what the simple gesture did to Hélène. “I am much older than you. I can do what I want with my own fucking life.”

She stopped when she noticed that Hélène had fallen to her knees with her hands up in defense. There was a pool of tears by her knees and fresher tears trickled down her thighs to add to the blooming puddle. Her hands, balled into fists, trembled and her body shook violently; it was almost frightening. Hélène did not face Marya, the younger woman’s eyes turned away to stare at the tear-soaked knees as she waited for something to happen. Waited for a hand to collide against her head or across her face. Or perhaps for something to come flying in her direction. Marya lowered the hand she had raised and placed the bottle aside to maneuver herself to squat in front of Hélène who refused to look up at her.

Marya recalled the stories Hélène had told her about Pierre, about the things the man had done to her that made her miserable in what was a fruitless relationship. She remembered the incident when he threw a marble table at her, the number of times he had raised a hand at her and the times when he laid his hands on her. The bruises that colored her olive skin had broken Marya’s heart but what ruined her was the nonchalant smile Hélène wore when she tugged her clothes over the marks with the poor excuses that they were from careless cooking accidents. That had been the last straw and it was that day when Marya vowed to protect this woman. Lord, what had she done? She had not meant for it to seem as though she were actually raising a hand to hit Hélène. She would never!

Sobs wracked through Hélène’s petite body and her breaths were hoarse as she forced herself to take deep intakes of breath to stabilize her breathing. She had not expected Marya’s raised hand to trigger a panic attack. It came as a sharp pain in her chest and something that squeezed the air out of her lungs which made her fall on her knees. And the next thing she knew, she was crying. She could see Marya’s hazy figure in front of her and she fell backwards, landing flat on her back with a soft cry. Marya moved towards her and she scrambled to her feet hastily with a sudden rush of hatred, fear and sorrow surging through her. She scowled through her tears, grasping the kitchen counter to balance herself on her feet and she pointed a finger at Marya menacingly.

“Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hélène.”

“Shut up! Just shut up! You… You…” Wiping away her tears with her sleeves, she dashed to the stairs, unable to finish her sentence while leaving a very bewildered Marya standing in the kitchen alone.

Marya’s pride did not allow her to falter. She stared at the spot where she had last seen Hélène on the stairs, barely flinching when she heard a door slam shut which was followed by the click of a lock. Hélène would never forgive her for breaking the vow that she made to her. Whether an explanation would help, Marya did not know but it was very much evident that Hélène could not bear the sound of her voice now. Perhaps that would be saved for the day when Hélène would allow her to speak to her. Unlike Hélène, Marya was aware when one needed their own space but it was to the extent that if one did not wish to be in the presence of anyone, she would leave them alone until granted the permission to be around them. The same applied to Hélène but Marya could not help but worry that this may worsen if they did not speak. Communication was always key to solving problems that involved two parties but knowing just how introverted Hélène can be, despite being crowned the Queen of Society, this would be almost impossible. She had betrayed Hélène’s trust in a second, and building that back would take a long time.

Subconsciously, she reached out for the drink to uncap it, and drank straight out of the bottle. She had to numb the pain before it got to her, swallow it down like a pill for it to dissolve into nothing. The bitterness coated her throat and her tongue, the stinging singe burning at the back of her throat. It was a reflection of what had ensued. The bitterness reminded her of the cold gaze Hélène threw at her and the pain was a reminder that she had hurt her lover. She had not right to be upset over this for this was her fault. She needed to control her temper better, and she should not have lashed out on Hélène to project her anger. It was unfair to her. All she wanted to do was help. Marya did not blame her for always feeling redundant at home.

What the brunette had said was correct. Marya was the one going out and earning a living to support them while Hélène took on a part time bartending job to chip in some money so that she was not entirely useless. If there was one thing Hélène despised, it was being idle and useless while others did the work for her. She was an independent woman and she loved proving that she was. But Marya ruined that for her by suppressing her into doing nothing.

Marya did not know how much drank but she was certain that she had drunken enough the night before to make her pass out cold on the kitchen floor. Sunlight burst into the room, a single ray flickering against her eyes as the curtain flapped in the light morning breeze through an open window. The house was awfully silent, save for the ringing in Marya’s head as the first glimpses of a hangover began to take its toll on her. First came the splitting headache, then the nausea but she held strong. Stumbling to her feet, she placed the bottle aside, looking to see how much she had consumed. It was drained halfway of its contents and judging by how clean the floor was, the bottle had been emptied solely by Marya’s consumption. Regaining all composure, she mustered the energy to prepare herself for work. Alcohol was nothing to her after coffee. Before she left, she made sure to greet Fifi, Hélène’s and her own pet frog, or as Hélène liked to refer to as their daughter.

When she exited the house, she noticed two things missing: Hélène’s boots and the car. Perhaps she had gone to work or went to see a friend of hers. Respecting her space, she did not drop a message, not even a brief one asking for her location. Hélène was a grown woman and she knew better enough to take control of her own life with sensible decisions. And so, Marya went to work without sparing so much a thought on the fight. Still, worry bubbled deep in her chest.

~

It had been weeks but Hélène maintained a distance from Marya. The tension that Hélène had built between transformed into a brick wall that defended her from the other, and it also came in the form of a spare room. Hélène had moved some of her things to the guest room that had been unoccupied for a long time and decided to make use of it to stay away from Marya. She did not utter a word nor did she spare a glance at the woman every time they were in the same room. Whenever they were in the same room, Hélène would automatically move herself to another even if she did not have any business in that particular room. She could be lounging in the living room and when Marya entered the room, she would stand up robotically and walk into the bathroom where she would sit for nearly half an hour before relocating herself to her own room.

The redheaded woman had tried making conversation with her to explain herself and apologize. If Hélène saved a dollar for every apology that Marya had given, she would have been able to afford a rare frog sibling for Fifi. She grew desperate day by day and Hélène had developed a resistance to Marya’s constant attempts of trying to speak to her. Marya never gave up on Hélène, no matter how hostile the woman seemed. If she genuinely did not wish to speak to her or see her, she would have packed her bags and left her a long time ago. There was nothing that was forcing Hélène to stay with Marya. No wedding vows, no golden band, no child to win custody over. Hélène would still have a place to stay if she left. Her brother and Dolokhov would be more than happy to welcome her with open arms or she could ask her incredibly rich father for a house. There was no issue. Despite all that, they still lived under the same roof so that told otherwise behind the intent of Hélène’s avoidance.

The cold and empty bed broke her heart and Marya would find herself clutching the sheets where she would normally find Hélène curled up. A pillow took her place, Hélène’s pillow, and the scent of her grew fainter as the days went by. She hated the possible foreshadowing of this pathetic pillow and empty space where her lover should be. As the presence and the scent of Hélène faded away, it was like a ticking timer. If she did not repair this between them, she would lose Hélène forever. She would never be able to find someone to love as much as she loved this woman. Hélène would move on and find another person to love but Marya? She was incapable of doing such. Moving on was simple but finding love again was a challenge and it was one that Marya would never be willing to take up again.

Marya had confided in Sonya and Natasha about this, the only two people she could trust with advice and this secret of how she had messed up. Asking Pierre would be of no use as he was in a situation like this once but he never got out of it. Now Marya understood what it was like to be in his shoes. Sonya offered an apology but Natasha had more to provide for her loving godmother. It was surprising how much the girl knew but one was likely to learn a lot after a certain incident which will not be touched.

“You must find the right time for her to listen to you. Maybe not when you’re in the same room as her, no… Perhaps a letter explaining everything or a phone call? That way, she will have no reason or place to run away,” Natasha explained but Marya shook her head hopelessly.

“What if she doesn’t read the letter or answer the call? Then what?” Marya inquired, slouching her shoulders slightly.

“Then continue to give her more time. You said it so yourself, if she wanted to leave you, she would have left that house but she’s still there. Maybe she’s conflicted. She could be scared! She hasn’t heard your explanation yet so this could be why she’s afraid of you. This is why communication is always key. You both don’t understand enough to approach each other.”

“What is that suppose to mean?” Marya muttered.

“Hélène doesn’t want to approach you because she’s afraid of another outburst but the thing is, she doesn’t know that you had no intention to hit her. It actually comes from the experiences she’s had but… I’m sure she knows you’re different from him. As for you, you don’t understand what she’s going through because you’ve never been in her place. And you don’t choose to pursue this apology of yours because you’re afraid of driving her away,” Natasha murmured, tapping her chin in thought as her eyes widened.

“I suppose that’s what it is,” Marya concluded as she sipped her coffee.

“You should just find the right time, like Natasha said… A time when she can’t run but not in a way that seems like you’re forcing it onto her,” Sonya chimed in as she fumbled with her cup of tea.

“I’ll try,” Marya told them, but she did not make any promises.

“It doesn’t have to be done today. It could be done on another day or whenever feels right. Just don’t wait too long or you’ll lose her,” Natasha warned.

It was easier said than done, as most things were. Natasha’s advice was embedded at the back of Marya’s head and she recited it over and over again to herself. It was all in the matter of perfect timing but would God be kind enough to bless her with this moment before it was too late? She did not know if her prayers were heard. Every Sunday at church, she asked for God to forgive her for the mistreating the one she swore to protect then she prayed that he would give her a sign that the time was right to speak to Hélène. The day when she would to listen.

After a quiet night at Natasha's apartment, Marya returned home heavy-heartedly. Her eyes had fallen to stare at the floor, rimmed in red from holding in her tears and her bottom lip quivered with every shaking breath. Another week had gone and with every passing day, she could feel Hélène slipping away from her. She had seen her boots where they usually belonged on the porch, indicating that she was home early from work but Marya figured that she was already locked up in her bedroom. Putting her things aside, Marya walked to her room but came to a halt in front of Hélène's closed door. Was this the right time? Whether it was or was not, this would be a somewhat appropriate time to let it out. Hélène did not have to tolerate the sight of her face for a door stood in their way. Being in a separate room, Hélène had no reason to flee for she had already fulfilled her own criteria of avoidance. 

She gave the door a light knock, hearing a soft inhale on the other end then a sigh. Hélène did not word her response and Marya could not tell whether this was a good or bad sign. Hélène was not telling her to go away but this could just be her resistance to keep up with her silent treatment. Anyhow, it seemed like the perfect moment to let things off of her chest. It did not matter it she was listening. As long as she managed to get everything out, Marya would know that, at least, she tried. Trying was the most important, according to Natasha and if Hélène still could not find it in her to forgive Marya, it was alright. That was the mind-set Marya tried to carry herself with. Leaning against the door, she slid onto the floor and pursed her lips into a tight line. Then she spoke. 

"Elena... I really don't know what else to do. I know I've been apologizing countless of times, over and over again, and I know how meaningless each one has become but please, I beg of you to forgive me"- Marya never begged. 

Hélène perked up, tossing her phone aside to pad over to the side of the bed. Marya never begged for forgiveness. The woman would never stoop so low. Her pride would never allow her to do such a thing. But here she was at her doorstep, begging for Hélène to forgive her over a stupid raise of her hand. Silently, the brunette crawled to the door to hear her better, leaning against the door where she assumed Marya had rested herself again but she did not speak. She made sure her breathing was quiet; through her nose and out of her mouth slowly and steadily. Marya continued. 

"I promised to protect you and I failed you. I truly didn't mean to raise my hand at you. I had no intent to hit, I swear... I lost my temper that day and I didn't know what it was that I was doing. It was so wrong of me to lash out on you just because you were the only one there..." She paused. "You tried to help and I pushed you away. I doubted you because I thought that I could take care of myself but I was wrong... And I'm sorry, Elena. I'm so sorry." 

Then Hélène heard a shuffle of movement, clothes rustling against the door then a clumsy thud. Marya had gotten up but Hélène remained on the floor feeling uncertain with herself. There was a light scrape on the other side as Marya ran her hand along the door, her rings scratching the surface. 

"If you don't wish to see me again, I respect your wishes... Goodnight, Lena."

With that, Marya returned to her own room and Hélène to her footsteps fading out of her earshot. Her chest had tightened and it became difficult to breathe. Hélène did not move but she felt her heart fall slightly. Initially, she had plans to confront Marya about the matter, give her a chance to explain herself but after an unnecessary wait, it had obviously eaten the older woman up in despair. Hélène was convinced that Marya would have been better off without her but seeing how emotionally and physically unwell she had become, lords, she had inflicted far too much pain and she did not mean to. She conjured an image of Marya in her head, remembering what little of her she had seen whenever they were in the same room. She could see the dark circles of sleep deprivation coloring her eyes, the absence of her smile whenever she stepped into the house, the way she slouched over to stare at the floor instead of keeping her head high. She had lost herself and this was on Hélène. No matter how proud or confident Marya brought herself to be, the woman could be just as weak and this startled Hélène greatly. 

She would speak to Marya tomorrow, she declared, and make things right. She could not hurt Marya any longer as this was more damaging than anything else that had happened. It would be an awful time to emerge from her room and approach Marya at this ungodly hour. She needed her sleep and so did Hélène so she left the apology at that for her to dwell on. Let this one nag her until she pushed herself to speak to Marya. Like Marya, she worried that it might be too late. 

* * *

Her alarm rang in a shrill screech of bells but Hélène was already up. She buslted around her room, tossing a flannel over her shoulders while she fumbled with her makeup to prepare herself for the day. Waking up early, she figured she could catch up with Marya before she left for work and she would be able to get on with her day as normal. Finished with a light coat of make-up, she slid out of her room and headed straight to Marya's room in hopes to find the woman there. She even called out to her to alert the woman that she was looking for her but received no response. Perhaps she was busy preparing herself. 

To her disappointment, Marya's room was empty... Far too empty. Had it always been this empty? Stepping inside, she noticed that the window was shut and the curtains were drawn closed. Knowing Marya, she often left the window open to freshen up the room with the morning air and sunlight. It was a routine Hélène was so familiar with it but this change alone stuck panic inside of her. The emptiness on the room could have just been Marya's knack for cleanliness since the woman was so fond of keeping things organized and neat. She could not have left. Not after the apology the day before. This could not be what Marya had meant when she said that she respected her wishes. 

She bolted out of the room and scampered down the stairs to search the rest of the house for her lover, calling out to her desperately for an answer. She went to the garden, to the porch, to the laundry room, to the living room then to the kitchen. Marya was nowhere to be seen. The car was gone and so were her shoes. The items in the kitchen were untouched and so were the pillows on the couch where Marya would lounge to watch the news early in the morning before leaving for work. There was no left-over coffee in the coffee machine where Marya would retrieve her daily doses of caffeine to start off her day with. Not a trace of Marya could be seen and it was distressing.

Hélène lost her. She was gone and she did not know what to do. She could call her but what were the chances of her picking up? Whipping out her phone from her pocket, she dialed Marya's number. It rang once then twice then a couple more times until it reached Marya's voice mailbox. Tears welled up in her eyes and she wiped them away messily with the back of her hands. She scolded herself for crying over something that was caused by her own doing. She cursed at herself for being so pathetic and petty. This was exactly why she could not help anyone for she did not possess the abilities to help herself either. And here she was, sobbing over a mistake she could have corrected if it were not for her stubborn temper. 

As she cried, she did not hear the door open. The jangle of keys alarmed her and in stumbled Marya with her arms filled with bags of groceries. She kicked her heels off as she stepped into the house, humming quietly to herself. She took no notice of Hélène who was staring at her with her mouth hanging open. The next thing she knew, Hélène had launched herself at Marya who yelped in surprise. The smaller woman clung onto the taller one and she buried her face into her neck in noiseless sobs. Marya made sure her footing was steady and she dropped a bag of groceries to hold Hélène up with one arm, though Hélène made sure that she was secured by wrapping her legs around Marya's waist firmly. 

"Hélène, there are eggs in there," Marya spoke up but made no move to pull away from the other despite how crinkled the bag of groceries were in between their bodies. 

"I forgive you, Masha... And I'm so sorry," Hélène snivled as she looked up to meet Marya's eyes. "Will you please forgive me? It was never my intention to hurt you."

Marya placed the other bag of groceries on the floor to carry Hélène in her arms, pressing her forehead against hers with a small smile on her lips. "I forgive you, my dear. We all make mistakes and I understand why you reacted in such a way. You had every right to be mad at me. I deserved it."

"Oh, shut up, will you? You don't deserve any bit of hostility," Hélène mumbled.

"Shhh... Let's not talk about it any more. It's done and over with, alright?" Marya assured her as she pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. 

"I thought you left..." Hélène hiccoughed as she rubbed her nose. "The coffee machine was empty and your room was empty."

"Oh. That was why I went to the grocery store. I ran out of coffee and I forgot to get some yesterday," she told her and Hélène gave her a light smack on the shoulder. "So an empty coffee machine made you think that I was gone?"

Hélène nodded and buried her face against the crook of Marya's neck, fingers digging into her shoulders as she held onto her tightly. Marya littered her face with kisses then pressed a single kiss to her lips. They held on to each other in silence, relishing in the contact that they had lost but Hélène showed no intention of letting go. Picking up the groceries, Marya arranged the groceries with Hélène wrappd over front but she did not cause much of a disturbance. Nevermind missing work. Hélène did not have the time to re-do her make-up that was now smudged against Marya's neck and her hands. She would stay until it sufficed and Marya did not mind it either


End file.
